


In the Cards

by MissLunaTick



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Haunted Mansion (Ride)
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Haunting, Paranormal, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:59:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8260312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLunaTick/pseuds/MissLunaTick
Summary: The old manor was protected from the modern world by a high gate, and the expansive historic graveyard hidden beyond the tree line. It weathered through storms and time with no signs of ever changing. But change is inevitable, unexpected, and chaotic.





	1. Prologue

Black funerary drapes and a wreath of calla lilies hung on the second floor balcony above the main door. A very somber mood settled upon the manor. The sun shining brightly above the old manor home did little to chase away the gloom. The wake had been quick; most of the seats filled by the house staff, and even then the parlor had been nearly vacant. A priest in robes walked out of the large front doors, saying a blessing over the doorway as the pallbearers carried the humble pine box. The family plot sat at the edge of the yard near the old willow trees. A middle-aged woman walked slowly behind the procession, her black gown and veil appropriate for a woman in mourning. The small crowd watched the coffin being lowered as the priest offered words of comfort and wishes for peace upon the soul of the departed. The servants stood with tears in their eyes, holding in their sorrow while the black lace veil completely obscured the woman’s features. Each servant picked up a piece of earth and gently tossed it on the coffin, a final gesture of goodbye to the young master. No one said how it was such a disgrace that the young master was buried in little more than a pine box. Glaring eyes were cast at the woman in black. The servants had been forced to spend their own money to put out the obituary. It was an ill omen that the sun parched the earth on this day of sadness, a sign they took to mean the departed was most unhappy. Each servant laid a single white calla lily on the grave as the woman in black laid an orange lily over the simple headstone. There was silence as the new Mistress of the Gracey estate turned and walked back towards the manor. With a final silent prayer the priest crossed himself, and the house staff followed suit, walking back towards the manor after the woman. The gloom that clung to the manor held a hint of malice, which in a short time drove the living occupants out of its halls and into the soil below.

 

Over a hundred years later the old manor stood in its place, looking as neat as ever, but starkly empty. The old manor was protected from the modern world by a high gate, and the expansive historic graveyard hidden beyond the tree line. It weathered through storms and time with no signs of ever changing. But change is inevitable, unexpected, and chaotic.


	2. Happy is the corpse the rain falls on.

Emily de Claire was a young woman living in the outskirts of New Orleans. She saw herself as nothing special. She rented a bedroom in a house, sharing the house with three other girls and her landlady Mrs. Fletcher. Emily woke up at eight, and she had to wait in line for the other girls to finish with the restroom. By nine Emily had finally gotten her turn in the bathroom, and after twenty minutes she walked out to let the last young lady have her turn. Emily walked back in her room, brushing out her long ebony hair to put it in a simple braid. Her uniform was on her disheveled bed, and she quickly changed from her tank top and night pants into a long sleeved, plain black dress with her nonslip shoes. She put just a small dab of blush on each of her cheeks and a bit of pink lipstick on. Her complexion was fair, with bright green eyes. Finally dressed and ready for work Emily went down stairs and into the kitchen, pouring herself some coffee then adding a lot of vanilla creamer to sweeten it up. She let her coffee cool down while she made a bowl of fruity flakes cereal.

“Emily, isn’t that a kids cereal?” Sarah was in the bedroom next to Emily’s, and the two were on a friendly basis. Emily shrugged as she started to eat, keeping an eye on her cell phone to make sure she wouldn’t be late. The pair fell into silence as they ate their breakfast. Listening as everyone else shuffled around and got ready for the day. Finishing her cereal and coffee, Emily washed and dried the dishes before placing them back on her shelf of the cupboard. Picking up her keys from the key ring at the door and leaving for work. Emily grabbed her bike from the garage and started riding to the antique store where she worked. She parked her bike behind the store, chaining it to the bike rack. Checking her phone, Emily was relieved to see she was early. Walking through the front door, Emily waved to the elderly man in the store.

“Miss de Claire, How are you today?” Her employer, Mr. Hightower was sitting behind the counter, smiling at her through his thick glasses. She smiled as she went to get her time card, clocking in.

“I am doing well today. How are you and Mrs. Hightower?” She grabbed a bottle of window cleaner and a cleaning towel, cleaning the front door of the small shop. She cleaned up the finger smudges and then moved to cleaning the display cases. She admired all the elegant brooches and antique jewelry in the cases, but she couldn’t really afford anything in the shop.

“We are doing splendid, thank you for asking. After you finish cleaning the glass would you mind grabbing the catalogue and double checking the stock room?” He was sitting on the stool behind the counter, his cane close by in case he needed to get up and walk. Emily smiled and nodded, acknowledging his request. When she had finished cleaning the glass she did grab the catalogue clip board and a pen, heading into the back of the store and leaving the door open in case she needed to help a customer. It was a few hours, going back and forth between the stock room and helping Mr. Hightower when a customer came in. She finished taking inventory, and then began to dust and polish the antiques in the shop as Mr. Hightower examined her stock list, selecting items they would send to the auction house. As the sun set the street lights went on, and Mr. Hightower was up and leaning heavily on his cane to close the front door. “Oh…Miss de Claire, before you leave for the evening, I was hoping to ask a favor of you. There is a client that was hoping for us to give an appraisal on a few pieces they have. They live out a few miles from here. Do you think you could do the appraisal for me? I will give you two days pay for helping me out.”

“Oh…sure I guess. I’ll just need the address and I can go tomorrow.” She clocked out her time card, trying to not show how excited she was. She had been learning everything she could from her employer, and being an art history major was a huge help to her credentials. “Did they mention anything about what kind of pieces they wanted appraised?” Emily easily slipped out around Mr. Hightower letting him shut the door as she unlocked her bike from the rack.

“Some china sets from the Victorian era, and possibly a tea trolley from about the same period. Nothing that is too difficult to appraise. But I just don’t feel up to the trip.” He reached into his coat pocket, handing her a piece of paper with the address. Emily took the paper and slipped it safely into her purse. “Thank you dear. I will see you the day after tomorrow. Be safe Miss de Claire.” She watched the old man walk to his car and drive towards home before she turned on her safety lights and rode her bike home. As Emily arrived home she put her bike back in the garage and headed inside the house, taking her shoes off at the door to her room. Emily unbraided her hair and wiped off her makeup, pulling on her sweats and heading downstairs for dinner. Mrs. Fletcher was watching her evening shows in the living room, and she could hear one of the other girl’s out in the back yard chatting on a phone.

Emily opened the fridge, her mouth pulling into a pout as she saw how empty her storage spot was. She loved working at the store, but she really wished Mr. Hightower would raise her wages, or better yet, give her commissions on pieces she sold. She got a little bonus if pieces sold at auction, but not enough to keep her from ending up with scraps for meals during slow periods. With a resigned sigh she pulled out her milk, making it a cereal for dinner kind of night.

The next day Emily once again woke up early, went about her routine, but she put on some pants under her dress, knowing she would need to be comfortable for her long bike ride. It would only take about an hour and a half one way to reach the address, so she figured she would be home well before dark. She borrowed a basket from Mrs. Fletcher for her bike, placing a sack lunch and her appraisal books in a waterproof bag. She strapped them in tightly to the basket, the directions in her purse she also stuffed into the bag. The sun was shining brightly, a warm breeze in the air. With her helmet strapped on tightly Emily rode off towards the clients’ home. Her trip took her out on the roads that cut through the old bayous, cars passing her by as she kept to the side of the road. The area the house was in seemed like it was surround by the swampy marshes and old southern style homes. Many of the homes seemed very beautiful, that is of course what she could actually see of them. Roads lost lanes the further she went, and she hated to say it but she should have tried to borrow a car for this. The roads out this way were barely wide enough for two lanes, but thankfully the swamp did not nestle up to the road so when a car went by she only had to stay on the shoulder. She stopped to take a drink of water, looking around her and noticing an old gate across the road that was nearly invisible due to all the plant growth on it. Emily followed it till she found the main opening in the gate, with a private road leading off in the distance to what she could make out as a building. The gate had amazing filigree designs, and she could make out the shape of a ‘G’, but the vine growth made it hard to be certain. A chill ran down her spine as a loud cawing echoed out of the stillness, and she set off again, determined to reach the client.

It took her two hours to reach the home she was looking for, having nearly gotten lost a few different times. Emily had successfully appraised the sets that the clients had wanted. The couple had been miffed to find out that the silver on the tea trolley had been worth more before they polished it. With her work done Emily was escorted out of the house, very unceremoniously and without even a tip for all her trouble. It seemed that Emily’s luck was turning for the worse, as rain clouds had rolled in, dark and ominous. A crackle of thunder made Emily huff as she mounted her bike again, turning her lights on just to be extra safe. Maybe she could make it to a bus stop and get home that way. Only good part about storms, the gators hated them, and that kept those things from being out and about in the swampy areas. Even though it was only two o’clock the clouds were making it looks like the sun may as well have set.

Up a ways on the road, a truck was driving in the opposite direction of Emily’s travel, slowed down to pick up a tall elderly man hitchhiking on the side of the road. The truck driver asked where the old man was heading; the man simply said he would let the driver know when it was his stop. The driver felt a bit on edge with the vague statement, his hand reaching over to reassuringly grip his gun handle in the side pocket of his car door. The pair started off again at a slower pace, the driver trying to pay close attention to his guest rather than the road. Emily could see the headlights, and she kept to the side of the road, keeping up her pace as she watched the truck carefully. The truck passed by that old gate she had noticed earlier. The old man nodded as he aged rapidly into a withered skeleton with a translucent glow.

“This is where I get off.” The hitchhiker said, before dissipating like smoke. The driver of the truck screamed with terror. The truck swerved wildly, skidding a bit before the brakes finally kicked in. He stared with shock at the spot the passenger had just left, shaking with fear. It was a while before the driver could even think to continue driving, slowly straightening out his car again and continuing on his travels, never noticing the bike or its rider he had pushed off the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before anyone says anything, yes, I know that Emily de Claire is the name given to the beating heart bride in the comics, but this Emily is not the same person. I am just using the name because I like it.


	3. The Doctor is in

Emily was prone on the gravel shoulder of the road, her bike nearby, the safety light still on and her bag still strapped securely in the basket. Her helmet thankfully did its job, but gravel had scraped up her left cheek bad enough that the scrapes were bloodied, and her arms and had worse lacerations from coming up to protect herself. She lay there on the gravel for hours, no cars driving by the old road in this weather. A loud cawing sound rendered the air, a few light droplets of rain falling on her face, encouraging her to wake up. There was the sound of the gravel being shifted under some light weight, and then the cawing coming again, much louder. Somehow Emily managed to stand, her left leg throbbing and unknown to her, also bleeding under her pants. Her eyes opened wider, and she seemed to feel more pain as she returned to awareness. The cawing sound rang out once more, and Emily looked to see a large black bird hopping towards her on the gravel. Her head felt like it was spinning, and when the bird cawed she groaned. Slowly she stood up and unlatched her helmet, letting it fall to the ground. Her entire body in pain but yet she felt somehow disconnected from it, shock numbing her to the pain her body had been feeling for a while.

“Please…not so loud…” The bird seemed to understand what Emily said, now making low click and grumbling sounds. The bird tilted its head, studying her it seemed with its dark beady eyes. Emily took a tentative step towards her bike, grimacing as her leg protested. Emily forced herself to get to the bike, unhooking her bag from it as more droplets fell from the sky. A crack of thunder nearby made her step away from the bike. She had already been run off the road; she did not need to be struck by lightning too. Emily saw the bird pecking at some of the gravel with her blood on it, and she looked away, not liking the image there. “Don’t do that…it’s very unsettling.” The bird squawked at her, flaring its feathers as if asking what else it was supposed to eat. “I could have died, and seeing you do that…too many bad images.” The bird tilted its head one more time, shrugging before it started to peck at the rocks. “Please stop…if you want something to eat that bad I’ll give you some of my sandwich.” That caught the bird’s attention, and it swaggered over to her and looked up, waiting expectantly for food. Emily would have laughed if she was not in a large amount of pain. Reaching into her bag she pulled out her simple ham sandwich and the bird was hopping excitedly. Reaching in with her un-bloodied hand Emily ripped a piece off and tossed it near the bird. It made clicking sounds to show its excitement, and greedily consumed what she gave. The bird finished and promptly stood next to her feet, flaring it feather and making a croon sound to ask for more. “Hey now I had to work for this sandwich.” It made what she could only describe as a whine before it danced on its feet. She was starting to feel foolish, standing out there on the side of the road talking to a bird as it started to sprinkle. Emily looked at her surroundings, her sandwich, and then to the bird.

“Look, you want it that bad; you can work for it too. I need help. Know any doctors around here?” The accident must have knocked her silly because she swore she heard the bird mutter under its breath about something before it looked up to her, then the sandwich, and then turned around and started to swagger away. She thought the bird was leaving her before it turned around, looked between her and itself, and squawked and pecked at the ground next to it. Well, even if she was disoriented, following a bird to any prospect of help seemed better than waiting by the road for something else to happen. She slowly made to move after it, and once the bird seemed satisfied that she was following it continued to lead the way, stopping to let her catch up every so often. It hopped up and seemed to be perched on a branch in the thick bushes, but when Emily caught up she realized it was the gate from earlier. The bird pecked at the iron gate, as if knocking, and to Emily’s surprise it swung open slowly, not very wide since the vines had nearly shut the gates together, but enough for her to hobble through it. Her avian guide hopped down and continued to lead her toward what she hoped was help. A small gust of wind passed her, and the gate swung shut with a light click. She could see a grand white mansion at the end of the private road, and a flickering light passing through the windows on the second floor. Relief flooded through her at this, at least there was someone home.

The light sprinkling of rain had started to progress into a more serious affair, and she was starting to get soaked. She was slowing down with how tired she was getting, the road was longer than she thought, and it seemed to be getting further from her. When the bird turned to check on her it noticed how far behind she had slipped, and it spread its wings, taking flight towards the front door. Emily figured the bird was just going to wait there for her, and she tried to push herself, but her leg was throbbing, her back hurt, and the rain soaked her dress quickly, making it feel like an anchor. Falling to her knees Emily tried to move but the energy required was beyond her reach. She never noticed how the bird knocked on the door, cawing out until the door was opened. She didn’t see the figure at the door about to scold the bird for its behavior, or how the bird dragged the figure’s attention towards her.

What Emily did notice was that she was no longer feeling rain on her face, or the weight of her bag. Her vision was blurry as she felt faint again, so she paid no mind to hushed voices or sets of hands helping her up and past the threshold to the manor. The bird hopped in behind the pair of maids that carried the dazed Emily inside, and fluttered its wings in the foyer to dry itself of water before walking quickly to keep up.

Two maids gently helped Emily sit on the loveseat in the parlor nearest the foyer, the bird perching itself on the book case. One of the maids turned on the lights in the room as the other maid set Emily down on her uninjured side to keep blood from smearing on the green love seat. There were the sounds of a party from further in the manor, a very exciting affair from the singing and laughter that echoed out. But the maids were more concerned with their unexpected occupant. They could hear footsteps rapidly approaching the parlor from the party, hoping the master would not be cross with them for bringing the poor girl in. Two men came into the room, one man dressed in a classic black suit, the other was a much older man in a green suit with a purple under vest and tie. The elder man had opened the door as the young man looked to the two maids, about to give them a scolding for interrupting his gala until they backed away and revealed the young woman on his couch. He saw the blood slowly trickling from the scrapes along her face.

“She’s living.” The young man stated simply, removing his coat and rolling up the cuffs of his sleeves. “Please go retrieve my kit Mr. Stamp.” The elderly man silently left the room to do as he was requested. He looked to the maids, a frown still pulling at his lips. “One of you bring some hot water and a cloth, the other please help me expose her injuries. They need to be tended to.” As if in an afterthought the young man turned to the bird and stared at it. “Well?” The bird puffed its chest proudly.

“Doctor for the sandwich.” With that the bird swooped down and plucked out the sandwich bag from Emily’s belonging, sticking its head in to pick off chunks to consume. The young man shook his head, one of the maids vanishing as the other helped him remove Emily’s trousers and he let the maid push up Emily’s skirt till the maid found no more injuries. The maid tucked the skirt of the dress together to help preserve the young woman’s modesty, checking further up for injuries along the young miss’s middle and arms. Thankfully the maid found nothing along Emily’s bust, but the young woman’s back and arm would need to be exposed. The maid did her best to undress Emily while preserving her modesty, but Master Gracey simply cut the dress from sleeve to shoulder, and from the side to gain access to the wounds. He was approaching this as he had been trained to do, clinically. The other maid appeared with a bowl of hot water and a few clean towels, setting it on the table as the maids gently cleaned the blood and dirt from Emily’s wounds. Mr. Stamp returned with an old doctors’ bag, setting it down and opening it in one smooth motion.

“Mr. Stamp, please do tend to the guests while I tend to this one. I should not be long.” The young man reached into his bag, pulling out the gauze and antiseptic. Mr. Stamp bowed, his gangly white hair not completely held back by the small tie at the base of his neck. A wicked smirk appeared on Mr. Stamp’s face.

“Master Gracey, should I add a place setting? Just in case.” Mr. Stamp laughed at his own joke as he left the room, knowing his master would ignore the statement. The maids tried to hide their smiles at the jest, an upturned brow from the master quickly squashing any ideas of continuing in that line of discussion.

“I suppose it is lucky for her that she isn’t awake, the antiseptic can be very bothersome.” One of the maids offered as a way to try and lessen the tension in the room. It failed. The room falling into silence except for the sounds of the bird eating his reward and Emily’s breathing. Once he was satisfied he had done his best to clean the abrasions he began to put gauze around her leg, arm and neck so he properly wrapped the shoulder injury. He had to tape down gaze along the cuts on her back, knowing she would be covered in bruises. For her cheek he pulled out a small container of ointment, opening it up to sniff it, and once satisfied it was safe for use gently applying it to her face and then more gaze to protect the healing skin. Once Master Gracey was satisfied with his treatment the maids put Emily’s clothes back on as properly as they could while he pulled out smelling salt and opened the small glass vial under her nose. Emily’s eyes shot open as the strong odor assaulted her senses, and she felt like she had just been jerked awake.

She coughed a little, pulling her head back from a strong smell. Emily tried to sit up, but she only groaned and managed to shift in her spot. “Oh poor dear, you must be uncomfortable.” The same maid slowly helped Emily move into an upright position, giving Emily her shall as they all realized the front of Emily’s dress was not completely covering her upper chest now that it had been cut to expose her shoulders. Emily looked down at her arm and leg, seeing her limbs wrapped up like she was some sort of mummy. Next she looked up to the three sets of eyes on her.

“Um…thank you for helping me.” Emily really was at a loss for words. The people in front of her were dressed in clothes from the late Victorian era, and all seemed to be watching her like she was a lost child. Emily brought up her good hand to her hair, wincing. The man that was standing in front of her quickly moved to inspect the area, his fingers gently parting locks of her hair in search of blood and a hidden cut. When he was sure he had not missed one he stepped back. “I’m Emily de Claire. I am sorry to just end up here…but I was run of the road by a car…and I followed the crow till I must have fainted in your yard.”

“Raven actually.” Master Gracey corrected. Upon seeing the confounded look on Emily’s face he elaborated. “Diablo is a Raven. Crows, while native to the region, are smaller, and can’t speak. Thank the Lord for that.” He cast a glare at the bird as it finished its sandwich, looking at the pair as innocently as it could. Emily looked to Diablo, trying to understand why this man disliked the bird, it seemed smart but surely it wasn't able to-

“Gracey mad Diablo got sandwich.” Emily jerked as the bird spoke, her eyes widening. She had never heard anything other than parrots speak. “Emily give sandwich for doctor. Diablo bring her to doctor.” Emily was trying her best to not have a small fit. Maybe if she was not in a strange place, with strange people, while being injured she would have loved to see Diablo speak. But as it stood, it was very upsetting.

“Ruth, please take Diablo back to his mistress.” Master Gracey asked kindly to the younger maid. She bowed and moved to collect the bird, the bird cawing loudly as it flared its feathers threateningly, the maid pausing. Emily groaned, the loud sound had felt like being hit all over again.

“Diablo please…to loud.” The bird looked to her, its head sinking between its wings like it was embarrassed. Emily thought it was so cute. Even the throbbing of her temples and the shock it could talk did not make her all that cross with the bird. “Diablo you did great getting me here, thank you.” The bird swaggered to Emily, affectionately rubbing against her uninjured leg before leaving the room without much fuss. Once more Emily felt eyes on her, looking up, smiling shyly at the exasperated look on the very dignified man before her. “I assume you must be Dr Gracey.”

“Master Edward Gracey to be correct miss.” Ruth piped up from her spot near the door, quickly returning to the side of her fellow maid. Edward gave a small dip of his head to acknowledge Emily’s assumption.

“I am home for an extended holiday from my medical studies. But I assure you Miss de Claire, you received the best treatment I have been trained to provide.” He packed up the materials into his kit, silently musing to himself how odd it was to still remember his training so clearly after so long. Emily was starting to worry; the bag was an antique, along with all the furnishings around her.

“I trust you…it’s me I am starting to doubt.” Emily put her good hand to her forehead, trying to make sense of things. “I feel like I got knocked back in time. It’s not 1890 is it?” Her voice was rising in pitch, and even though she tried to be calm and smile it was clear her nerves were frazzled if not frayed. 

“No it’s not. This house is simply old fashioned, and we along with it. Ruth, some drinking water, and some brandy. Two glasses if you please.” The young maid curtsied and left the room, the elder maid sitting in the arm chair in the corner of the room. Edward noticed Emily looking to the older woman curiously. “Clara will stay here as a chaperone for you.” He explained gently, listening to the storm outside, hearing rain falling in heavy cascade. “Miss de Claire do you have any ways of safely making it home?” Edward was worried about keeping her in his home. For now with a party to keep his guests distracted it would be easy to keep the presence of a living hidden, but if anyone saw her…they would be scrambling over themselves to haunt her. Edward would normally be in on the fun, but the girl was injured, and already in shock. Any more stress and she might expire and end up a permanent fixture in his halls. Well, she was certainly fetching, so it would not be wholly objectionable, but most unethical as she placed her trust in him as a doctor. Emily looked at him, trying to remain calm but something about the entire house seemed to fill her with dread and unease. Her mind was racing and she shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. With a sigh Edward stood, pacing lightly as he considered his options. She was in no condition to travel, and with her clothes now cut he certainly couldn’t force her out without replacing them. He was going to have that bird stuffed one of these days.

“Clara… are any of the rooms unoccupied tonight?” He pinched the bridge of his nose to relieve some of the budding tension. Ruth returned with a tray of drinks, and he took the brandy, taking a hard drink from it as Emily accepted the water, declining the hard liquor.

“Unfortunately Sir none of them are available. I could take her down to my room if you want.” The older maid smiled reassuringly to Emily who was slowly sitting upright and was blushing as she covered herself. She wanted to re-latch her bra for more secure coverage but she just could not move her arm without it hurting. And as she tried to move she could feel gauze all along her back.

“No, I appreciate the offer but the servants quarters would leave her too exposed. I don’t see any other choice…I want one of you to stay with her in my room and I will…stay here in the parlor for the night. No one would dare go into my room, and with everyone in the ballroom you and Ruth can take her with little risk of being seen. Also look for some spare clothes for her.” With his choice made Edward turned to Emily. “I am sorry to be so abrupt miss, but if I am missing from the gala for too long it will cause a stir. I will see you in the morning to check your injuries and discuss with you how you will get home. I do hope you won’t think my manners lacking for this.” He bowed slightly to her, smiling at the still dazed look she was giving him. He traded his empty glass for the full one as he moved to leave from the room he had appeared from, and after a few more moments an eruption of cheers rang out from the ballroom. Emily had wanted to say something, anything, but she just couldn’t seem to function properly while he was in the room. 

“I am so sorry to be such a burden…I don’t mind going to another room so he doesn’t have to sleep on the couch.” Clara stood up and helped Emily gingerly to her feet, Ruth supporting her weight as Clara moved to open up the door to the main hall, checking that no one was in the hallway. Emily did her best to follow after Clara as Ruth steadied her. The maids took her through the servant's passage upstairs, opening up the door closest to Master Gracey’s room.

“Don't worry about it Miss, he isn't bothered, he can get a good rest in any place, the timing is the problem, tonight is his...well it's an important night for him, and we have nearly a thousand guests he is expected to mingle with. He loves having guests, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing.” Ruth said conversationally with Emily, assuaging the young woman's distress. Emily shivered as she was led up to the room, thinking that her soaked clothes were the cause. Clara opened a dark wood door, it's hinges creaking from disuse and a thick layer of dust being kicked up. The room was dark and the curtains were drawn closed. Clara turned on the lights as Ruth helped Emily to the large bed, setting her on the covers. “I will be back with some dry clothes miss.” Ruth walked out the door, closing it behind her as Clara started a fire in the small fireplace to heat the room. Emily blushed but gratefully accepted help out of her ruined clothes and shoes, Clara even taking a small towel to help dry her wet hair.

“I wish I could thank you and everyone for being so nice to me. I didn't mean for this to happen.” Emily spoke softly, her body feeling so exhausted from everything. 

“Don’t worry about it deary, just focus on getting some rest. Life rarely goes as planned.” Clara finished drying Emily’s hair as Ruth returning with a nightgown and a different dress for the next morning. They helped Emily into the nightgown, getting her under the covers as Ruth sat on a chair near the bed. “I must be getting back to the rest of our guests deary, but Ruth here will stay as a chaperone in my absence. Just ask her if you need anything dear.” Clara said as she moved to leave, Emily already drifting off as the plush blankets and the fire warmed the room and her body called for restorative sleep. 

“Please tell Mr Gracey that I am very grateful.” She mumbled out as she drifted off, Clara thinking it a shame such a pretty girl was a century late. Oh well, probably for the best, wouldn't have wanted her to have been another mourner. Clara waited for the girl to be asleep before becoming translucent and simply fading out of the room to re-materialize among the massive throng of guests.


	4. Morning after

“For He’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow, for he’s a jolly good fellow! That no spirit can deny!” There was a massive roar and the clinking of cups as ghosts all over the room raised their glasses towards their host. “To over a century of dragging chains and wailing in your halls!” “To Gracey!” Edward laughed along, feeling much freer around the other spectors than he had in Emily’s presence. Clara and Mr Stamps were letting loose along with the guests, other house staff floating around and having themselves a great time. Ghosts sat on the massive chandelier hanging about the banquet table, all the food was well past its prime, more on display for the ritual of food at parties. One of the things that doesn’t come across the veil of death was a sense of taste. The cake was very old, and looked more like a carving of a cake from stone. The candles were lit and flickering as Edward gave a grandiose bow and then leaned over the cake. He pulled in a large huff of air, sending out a gust of wind that blew some of the guests across the room. The candles went out amid another round of cheers as the guests reoriented themselves around the room. Drinking was on of the few things spirits could enjoy, and they did plenty of it. One of the guests sat down at the organ in the ballroom and started up a tune, couples grabbing hold of each other and twirling through the room, passing through each other and objects as they made merry. Edward was watching the couples dance, and he allowed himself to be dragged into a swing with a very pretty ghostly gal. He laughed and joked, parting from her eventually to drink some more. Edward was not a drinker, but tonight was celebrating being dead for over 130 years. He was happy, he was jovial, and he wanted to let loose. He was drinking enough that the living woman in his room was forgotten entirely as and he wailed and shrieked as loud as any of his guests, seeming to shake the grand ballroom well into the early morning hours. 

Diablo was glaring in the direction of of the ball room as the rambunctious ghosts prevented him from sleeping. The room he was in had once been an office of sorts, a large square space with windows and doors to the main hallway, the library, the balcony that went around the ballroom, and another door to a small bedroom that had been where his mistress had slept while among the living. A large cabinet was up against the wall of the room, and in the center was the seance table just as it had been, the tarot cards arranged around the crystal ball in the center. 

“Diablo keep Gracey up for this.” The bird muttered, trying to bury his head under the pillow in his cage to drown out the sound. 

“Diablo, let him have this night, he did us a favor after all. If the girl hadn’t received medical care she might have ended up dead. We need her alive to end my imprisonment here. And your own. Once I am freed of this place, you are free of your service to me.” The woman's voice was calm and even though there was clamouring from the party her voice filled the room easily and seemed to drown it out. The clear crystal ball seemed to glow and a wispy vapor floated within it as madame Leota spoke, not feeling the need to materialize. “I want you to go to her Diablo, keep her safe. Fate will handle the rest.” With the equivalent of a shrug the Raven flew to the door handle and opened the door to the hallway, eager to move to a room further away from the racket. Half walking half gliding he moved down the seemingly endless hallway as Leota pulled the door shut behind him. She was not a very social spirit, only allowing a few of the other haunts of the manor anywhere within the confines of her room. Diablo was her main source of communication with the rest of the manor, and he greatly enjoyed making mischief among the permanent haunts to amuse himself. Finally he arrived at the door, hopping up to the handle and tapping with his beak on the door to wait for a response. Ruth stuck her head through the door, seeming the bird and a small frown coming to her lips. 

“What does your mistress need Diablo?” Tilting his feathered head he started at Ruth with his black eyes, a red light glowing in their depths. 

“Stay with girl. Diablo keep her safe.” Ruth opened the door wide enough for Diablo to come through, the bird helping himself to a spot on the bed near Emily. 

“Master Gracey said she could sleep on the bed, not you.” Ruth chided Diablo, moving to shoo him off. Diablo turned on her, crimson pinpoints of light in his eyes glowing brightly and he let out an unearthly hiss, Ruth shying away from the bird. “Fine you fiend. But you better not make a mess.” Ruth sat down again, hearing the party from the ballroom, wistful about the gala.

“Diablo stay, you go. Diablo scare ghosts. Keep girl safe.” Ruth wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t the point but...well no one in the manor wanted to truly anger the demonic bird. Ruth nodded, leaving the room to go join the party. Diablo was happy to finally have the ghost out of the room, curling up closer to Emily and enjoying body heat for the first time in over a century. Diablo slept soundly next to Emily throughout the night, and well into the next day. The storm from last night had slowed down but there was still clouds filling the sky with the occasional clash of lightening and thunder. As the wind swept through the trees shutters rattled in place, a soft hushed sound as the air moved through the old manor where it had started to decay. Emily woke up to the silence, only Diablo’s breathing keeping her company. Everything hurt, and she was stiff as she tried to move. Her uninjured hand was the first part she managed to get above the covers, retracting it to the warmth at the feel of icy air. Diablo felt her stirring, waking up and seeing that the fire was out. The bird hopped out of bed and went to the fireplace, seeing the ash from last night and looking for some more wood. Diablo grabbed onto the wood stacked on the side, dragging it to the hearth. After piling a few logs together Diablo flared his wings and an inhuman chanting voice started, emerald flames erupting before the wood caught fire and started to burn its normal crimson hue. The room was rapidly heating up, and with the rising warmth Emily felt a little bit of her vitality return. Diablo leaped up and patiently waited for her to rise. Her head finally appeared from under the covers, her hair tousled. The bandages had some visible blood stains from the injuries still bleeding last night. She notinced Diablo there, a smile on her face as she pet the bird. 

“Hey there little buddy. I owe you big time for helping me last night. Did you come to wake me up?” Diablo perked up at her friendly tone, rubbing himself against her hand like a cat as a sign of affection. 

“Diablo stay last night. Keep you safe.” Emily did her best to pet him as she tried to adjust to a sitting position. 

“Thank you Diablo, that was really nice of you….where is the maid from last night...I thought she was supposed to ‘chaperone’ me?” Emily was looking around for the maid, confused at why the room was so dusty and looked so unlived in. A roar of thunder shook the house, lightening having struck nearby. Her bandages felt tight, causing her to wince as dried blood stuck to her skin and the gauze as she moved. “Oh...this feels really terrible. I need to change these.” Emily finally managed to stand, trying to ignore the discomfort as the gauze stretched, the dried blood tugging at her skin. Moving toward the door of the room Diablo sat on the handle, opening it to show her where the restroom was. 

“I wish I had another sandwich to give you.” She said gratefully as she let herself into the old restroom. The restroom was as antiqued as the rest of the house. She looked into the dusty mirror, cleaning it off as she looked at herself, troubled by the amount of gauze on herself. “I am lucky to be alive.” After doing her best to take care of her needs she washed up and reentered the bedroom, crying out in fright to find another person in the room, her hand stifling her cry as she tried to calm down. Gracey turned to greet her, looking a bit worn out himself, as if he has been up all night. Which he had been. Diablo had left the room while she was in the bathroom to go and wake Gracey. “I’m sorry for screaming, I just didn’t hear you come in.” He waved off her excuse, undisturbed by her screaming.

“It’s alright miss, I should have announced myself. It seems my staff has neglected their duties to you. I shall ask Diablo to go bring one so I can change your bandages.” The bird in question gave an annoyed squawk at having to go fetch someone else. 

“No...it’s alright, I am already imposing enough as it. I can help with what needs to be done.” She said as she exited the bathroom. Edward looked away from her in the thin night dress, his eyes carefully looking over the contents of his bag to allow her modesty. “I’m sorry, I know it might not be proper but with the amount of pain I am in I don’t really care. Diablo is here, and he seems pretty capable if you step out of line.” She added as good naturedly as she could, wincing as she moved towards the bed. Edward seemed to be mulling it over, agreeing with her logic. The bird was fond of the girl.

“I need you to please expose your leg so I can start there.” He said in a calm and measured tone, focusing on the task instead of the exposed skin as Emily hiked her skirt up as high as she could, bunching it up to cover herself as Edward put on his gloves and began to remove the gauze. She bit her lip and whimpered at the pain, shutting her eyes tight to keep the tears back as the gauze pealed away with more of her blood on it. “I’m sorry it hurts. You are doing well though, no infections. It shouldn’t have much scarring.” He tried to be reassuring as he watched her muscles twitch as she repressed her urge to get away from the pain he had to inflict to care for her properly. “Please tell me more about the incident if you can.” He wanted to keep her distracted as he moved from her calf higher up to her thighs. 

“I was biking home from a job my boss sent me on, I had my safety lights on but the storm made it really dark. There was this truck driving from the oncoming direction, a whole lane between us so I wasn’t too concerned.” She hissed in pain as he straightened out her knee to pull the bandages from the joint, the skin there very strained. “All of a sudden the truck swerved over the lane, I was lucky to avoid being hit, but it was like a gust of wind came from the truck and pushed me over, and then I wake up to Diablo picking at the rocks I must have been scraped over. Then he led me hear and...yeah.” She finished, breathing a little harder as the pain became worse the higher up her thigh he went. Edward would have liked to believe he was nothing but professional as he tended to her but his eyes spent much too much time glancing to where her hand held her bunched up night dress to the apex of her thighs. He finally finished removing all the old bandages, clearing his throat as he stood up to go collect some hot water in a bowl to clean her injuries with. Diablo was watching the two silently, enjoying Edward’s discomfort. “Um...I noticed the front gate is very overgrown...how did your guests arrive? If that’s not to much to ask.” 

“They used an alternative entrance.” He said simply as he returned with the water, kneeling now as he moved to add the antiseptics into it before gently dipping a clean towel into the water. “This won’t feel pleasant, but do please try to avoid moving.” He pressed the towel to her leg and started to gently clean it, trying to keep his eyes on the injury instead of the creamy skin of her other thigh, or worse, from drifting up and seeing her breasts barely hidden from view by the thin cloth. “What exactly was this task your employer sent you to do?” he was asking more to distract himself than her as he moved the cloth down her leg. 

“He owns an antique shop. A client asked for an appraisal of their china set. My employer asked me to come since he has a hard time getting around now at his age.” 

“I see, how did that go for you?” Edward finished wiping the last of her leg, picking up more ointment to rub into the wound. If he had a pulse he would have felt his heart picking up speed. 

“They were pissed that their stuff was worth less than they expected it to be, and promptly showed me to the door.” She was white knuckled as he had to rub the cream into her abused flesh. He made no mention of her mild cursing since he could see the tension in her muscles. 

“That is unfortunate. A lovely girl shouldn’t be treated so brashly for being honest.” Emily’s eyes opened as she looked down at Edward, seeing him focused on his work and blushing for her silliness. He was trying to give her good bedside manners, of course he would compliment her. “Would your family be on their way to look for you since you failed to return home last evening?” Emily looked away as he looked up at her questioningly, her features downcast. 

“No...I don’t have family here, and my landlady won’t be too concerned unless I miss my rent payment. Mr Hightower, my employer, would be the only person that knows and would think to look for me when I don’t show up for work tomorrow.” Edward was wrapping her in new gauze, making sure it was secure as he wound it up her leg. As he reached her thigh he had to reposition it to gain acess to finish, glad he didn’t need to breath as he spread her leg and raised it up. “I can call a taxi to come pick me up once I get my phone.” Her hands repositioned to cover herself as he worked, and he would have been panting excitedly if he were flesh and blood. Once the last of her leg was dressed he pulled away quickly, going to grab a fresh towel and giving her privacy to undo her top. Emily was blushing furiously as he had adjusted her thigh, glad she managed to stifle any inappropriate sound that might have escaped her. She slowly lowered her leg back down as she moved to fiddle with the top of the gown, The neckline of the dress wouldn’t give him the desired access and so Emily did the only rational thing she could. She sat on the bed, pulled the covers around her waist, and pulled the gown off. She used her good arm to hold the fabric and the covers to her chest as best she could as she turned her body to give him the best access. “I really am sorry for being such a burden.” Edward turned back with a fresh cloth, nearly dematerializing at the site of her in _his_ bedding, _undressed_ , and with a demure look on her face. He coughed into his elbow, trying to compose himself as he walked towards her. 

“Not a burden, truly you aren’t Miss de Claire. I simply want to ensure your wellbeing.” Edward shot a nasty glare over at Diablo when Emily wasn’t looking, cursing the demon bird for literally bringing temptation into his life. The bird just seemed to snicker to itself, its eyes staring right into Edward and making it clear the bird knew his sins. “I hope you won’t think it rude of me to ask about your family. Where are your parents if not nearby?” He was even more delicate with the bandages here on her upper body, trying to keep his fingers from lingering longer than necessary on the flesh closest to her breasts. 

“Well...My father is somewhere up North, he moved after I graduated high school. And mom...I wish I knew...One day I when I was little I came home and she was just..gone. She left a note saying our cousins had finally come back near town, and she had decided it was time to go with them again. My father never really forgave her, and became really distant after she left.” She was still in pain, but her emotional pain seemed to be effective at numbing her to the physical. “I only asked my dad about her once. He said she was a no good gypsy, and that she must have realized her spell on him was slipping for her to run off and leave him burdened with me. All I know is she said her great grandmother had come here from France.” Edward scowled, his mind now thoroughly distracted with her poor treatment and mechanically addressing her wounds. 

“So is it her last name you carry with you?” 

“No actually, dad had it legally changed after she left. He just wanted to declare I wasn’t his daughter, the lady at the courthouse wrote it as de Claire instead. Looking back, it’s amazing he bothered with me till high school instead of just dumping me off somewhere. Guess the child support payments from the state was enough to give me some worth.” Edward stopped what he was doing, his fists clenching tightly with anger. Diablo even hissed angrily at her words. 

“Forgive my forwardness Emily, but your father is a lout of the worst sort. To rename you...to...It’s beyond unforgivable. May your father get what he deserves.” Diablo hopped over on the bed with her, resting his beak on her hand to comfort her as she wiped at her eyes with the night dress. After a while Edward removed his gloves and wiped a few tears away, giving her a warm smile. “You did wonderfully.” He had finished with her wounds, and he moved to finish with the small scratches on her face. “I am sorry your father was so unfair to you, but thank you for feeling like you could share that with me.” 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laid that all on you. I’ve never told anyone before.” She smiled, her eyes still pink from her tears. “Doctor-patient confidentiality right?” It was a poor attempt at a joke but he nodded reassuringly as he pulled away to put away his kit. 

“Of course. I will have Clara bring some clothes for you. Please do feel free to ask for something if you need it.” He walked towards the door, almost passing through it before reminding himself to open and close it. 

“Diablo no tell either.” Emily let out a giggle as her avian friend spoke, her fingers caressing his smooth feathers. 

“I know Diablo. Of course you won’t tell, after all, we’re sandwich buddies.” The raven cawed in agreement, enjoying the young woman’s companionship. 

In Madam Leota’s room her crystal orb filled with mist once more as the wispy tendril of her spectral presence brushed the dust off her tarot cards. Her face formed inside the crystal and the cards were shuffled, slowly being dealt out as she used her gift to pierce into the veil of time and space to seek out answers. She laid out three cards, flipping them over to see what answer she had been given.

“Death...riding the chariot...towards the stars.” A smile lit up the woman’s face, a sense of relief on her face. It had been a gamble, so far, fate was on their side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarot meanings.  
> Death riding the chariot towards the stars.  
> Death: The end of something, change, the impermeability of all things  
> Chariot: Movement, progress, integration  
> Star: Hope, calm, a good omen


End file.
